


the price of wearing clothes that describe you (or, the fact that sad people walk catwalks)

by allmenarepigx



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, kise is still a model, kuroko is a fashion designer, kuroko is older than kise in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmenarepigx/pseuds/allmenarepigx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do you wear the things you do?" he asks, his voice as blunt as ever. </p><p>"I like them, that's why," Kise answers. </p><p>The man shakes his head, his light blue hair shining in the sunset behind his head."You don't." </p><p> Kise feels his heart leap into his throat. Their gazes lock for a what seems like a long time in a world where you were constantly moving. He gets up and walks out and promises himself he'll never come back. </p><p>Tetsuya was right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello cool people!! i hope you'll enjoy my first chapter by chapter story on here. do you have to put disclaimers? i'll do it anyways. i obviously do not own the names of kuroko no basuke or calvin klein. thanks.

Brushes paint his face to the shape of a god, fingers run through his hair to style the parting. Hands shove him up and hands greedily grasp the shirt and pull it over his head, undo the buckle in his belt and jerks his pants down. Soon, there is a different set of hands pulling pants up the slim, muscular legs that seem to go on for forever. He spreads his arms out as a crisp white button-up is pulled up his arms, and buttons quickly pinned up his shirt, leaving a few undone.

 

The wool of the stylish men’s business jacket, a gray material with black lining, completes the outfit. His black Oxfords shine under the light. He looks in the mirror one last time, feeling his heart beat pick up. His blonde hair is styled in a popular messy style, like he woke up with the graceful tussles. He practices his smile, the smile that is spread across countries all over the world. It’s blinding white, perfectly polished and seductive.

 

“Kise Ryouta, you’re up next in line for Calvin’s business suit collection,” comes a manager, rushing in. “ _Go._ ” He nods and makes long strides, quickly walking to stand at the starting spot for the runway. He hears the music, and walks out. He no longer is surprised by the blinding lights of the catwalk or the cameras flashing. He keeps a neutral look on his face.

 

He’s done this over and over and over. He’s seen the business men and women, sees the judgmental looks of other fashion designers. He can hear shouts and voices swirling around him but has long since learned to ignore them. _They all smell fear,_ he remembers he was once told, _but they can smell ambition too._

 

He strides across the stage as if he owns it - though he supposes that’s why he popular. So many of the people in the crowd have heard of him, had listened in on whispers about the famous blonde Kise Ryouta. Millions upon millions of dollars have been spent trying to persuade him to join in on different projects. He was one of the most sought-after models in today’s fashion industry.

 

He looks out in the crowd. He tries to see different people - it was an interesting experience to see how people reacted to his charms. He smirks a little as he stands at the end and lets everyone get a clear look at him - and the suit he was advertising. The music thumps in the background and he looks to the right, to the center, to the left as he was instructed to do. However, as he looks to the left a flash of light blue catches his attention. He follows it to see a man leaning back in his chair.

 

He couldn’t see much of him under the lights of the runway and the darkness of the observing seats. He tries to meet the man’s eyes, find out who it was, but turns around and walks back. His instincts force him to move on after his given time is up on the runway after years of becoming use to the bodily impulse. He keeps the neutral look on his face; it was just a job, after all.

 

New opportunities came to him all the time, most of them after huge projects like working for Calvin Klein. He was always open to them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He finds himself at a strip club many hours later, drunk off his ass. He could feel their body moving over him, digging into his groin. He groans heavily, throwing his head back at the smell of male musk surrounding them. He hears pants and moans from the room next to his. He thrusts his hips up in a desperate need to get release. The man whimpers, leaning his neck down to Kise Ryouta. _What was his name again?_

 

“Come for me, baby.” the male whispers to Kise. He can’t help but do exactly that.

 

It was always easier to bring him to a climax after he had been busy all day long.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up the next morning, somehow back in his penthouse. He rolls over on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Light streams in from the windows and he flinches, the feeling of a pounding headache bursting through his mind. He groans and runs to the bathroom, sliding across the floor and raising the toilet seat just in time to throw up his guts. The burning sensation in his throat feels disgusting and he shudders as he vomits up all the alcohol and food he had the night before.

 

The throbbing sensation in his mind worsens, the headache making the nausea even worse. He crawls over to the counter with his sink, using it as leverage to pull himself up. He looks in the mirror. He sees black smudges from mascara and his hair going in every direction. His skin is a pale yellow, his cheeks flushed red. His eyes look glassy and the light reflecting the golden orbs makes his eyes pulse. He takes his toothbrush and quickly rids himself of the disgusting feeling in his mouth.

 

He cleans his teeth over and over, trying to ignored the way his body pleads for him to give up and go back to bed. He spits out the minty toothpaste and washes it down the sink. He searches through cupboards until he finally finds his migraine relief medicine. He takes three pills and swallows them down with tap water right there from the sink.

 

He goes back into his room, dragging his feet dramatically. He crawls back under the covers, finally, to get some sleep…

 

...only to be popping open his eyes at the sound of his cellphone ringing. He searches under his pillows for it, and pulls it. Without looking he clicks, “Accept,” on the call and holds it up to his ear.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Kise-kun!” the cheerful, high-pitched voice of his assistant almost brings him to tears. “I’ve got great news.” She begins talking so fast and loud that he holds the phone away from his ear, adding in a few, “Mhm’s” here and there in hopes of pretending he knew exactly what she was talking about.

 

He lays there, phone away from his ear and the female blabbing on the other side reminds him that he should probably listen, though his hungover mind made him think differently. Usually Kise cared a great deal about what was going on in his career, but not right in this moment.

 

He rests his head on a pillow, lazily looking out the huge window-wall in his room as he brings the phone back up to his ear just in time. “-so what do you think? Because I totally think it’d be a great idea,” squeals his assistant. She practically made most of his decisions herself, though Kise liked her a great deal; she was smart though she acted like the stereotypical dumb blonde. There were always wheels turning in her mind and she knew what Kise liked and didn’t like without even asking him.

 

“Sure, it sounds great,” Kise agrees though he has no idea what the hell she was talking about. This causes a noise of excitement from the other end of the line and she thanks him over and over. Kise rubs a hand over his sleepy eyes, forcing himself not to zone out again.

 

“Thank you,” she cries. “Oh this is gonna be great for you, I can tell!”

 

“I can tell too,” he answers. “Thank you. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I have something to do.” Except not really, he was just tired and wanted to get a cup of coffee.

 

She hangs up the phone and he lets out a big yawn as he looks down at his touchscreen. He opens his email and waits for the details he vaguely heard her mention.

 

In the meantime he gets up and looks around his kitchen, looking for the coffee grounds. He checks the pantry, the counter near the coffee machine - only to find there was none. He lets out a pained groan and decides he should probably get out of the house and get something to eat. There was nothing inside his fridge or pantry, he had come to learn, only to remember that he was hardly ever there.

 

He walks back through his room to his closet, flips on the light switch to see all of the different textures of fabric and the two storage shelves in the back where he keeps his jeans and other shirts that are best not to be hung up. He gets out a pair of jeans and shimmies off the robe he had woken up in. He has to look presentable in public, is what they told him when he first began modeling at the age of fifteen, because you have to treat the fashion business like it’s your own. _“You can’t embarrass us, okay?”_

 

He pulls on the jeans that cling to every inch of his legs perfectly, jeans that sculpt his lean frame like every other pair he has. He pulls on a plain white v-neck and his black Doc Martens shoes. He pulls a plaid shirt on over his white one, leaving it unbuttoned and bunched up around his elbows. His wallet is in his back pocket and his keys and phone in hand; he walks through an empty home immune to the coldness.

 

He locks the door and makes his way to the elevator. Sometimes he swears his own home is unwelcoming.

 

He ignores the looks from teenage girls walking across the sidewalk that see him when he steps out of the building, practically cringing when he hears honks from cars. He tries to make his way to the nearest coffee shop without stopping once. Alas, girls are relentless creatures who at one second are timid and next are roaring like lions. This is something he learned a long time ago in the business, so he always tries to be considerate of his fans.

 

“Um, excuse me?” came a voice. He stops and turns, blinking down at the group of petite girls. They were like every other girl he’d ever seen, but he forces himself to be cheerful.

 

“Yes?” He flashes a smile that causes red face and squeals.

 

“May we have your autograph, if that’s not too much to ask for?” the girl who had spoken before continues to say. “We’re big fans of your work.” A lot of his work contains his shirtless pictures. Of course they were big fans.

 

One girl hands him a Sharpie, which he thanks her for. In his dashing way he scribbles his autograph onto their desired locations, writing false messages that he gives to each one. “Darling,” and “sweetheart,” were terms he used to describe every girl who asked him for one. When he was finished he slips the capped Sharpie back in the girl’s pocket. Her breathing picks up but he plays dumb with, “It was nice to meet all of you, but I have to be going! Bye-bye!” and saunters off.

 

This whole world was his catwalk and he wasn’t mature enough to walk peacefully.

 

* * *

 

As he sips his coffee at a table, he checks his phone for the email. He receives it finally, and clicks on it. He begins to read through it. The subject line reads, “Tetsuya.” Scrolling down he sees different information given to his manager, as it was a forwarded email. He reads it from start to finish:

 

“Good evening to you,

 

My name is Kuroko Tetsuya, but you may know me better as the owner of the fashion  company ‘Tetsuya’, though I myself am unknown. I recently attended the Calvin Klein fashion show for the Spring 2015 collection. I was one of the commentators that Mr. Klein wanted to hear from and I said the suit that Kaijo’s company was representing was wonderful. I asked whom the model was that wore the suit and he responded with Mr. Kise Ryouta.

 

I am starting a new collection for my own fashion company, and would find help useful. Mr. Kise Ryouta seems the perfect help for the fitting of the clothing line and I was struck with the thought to ask to transfer him over to be a model for me. I would like to set up a meeting with the both Kise’s manager, assistant and Kise Ryouta himself if this is possible.

 

We shall discuss all of the information and all of the processes that would be needed at the meeting. I believe he has much more potential than the other companies cast on him, and would like to help bring him to his biggest fame yet.

 

Please contact my manager at my office which will be in the information below. Thank you.

 

Kuroko Tetsuya.”

 

He calls his manager and talks to her. He has to - this is a big offer. He makes his way out of the coffee shop with the burning cup in his hand, talking excitedly about the opportunity.

 

He makes his way home and opens the door. It seems more welcoming now that he has something to do. Ryouta didn’t really like being bored, much less being on vacation until his next project was planned. He curls his lip as he sets his cup on the counter, and listens to what she has to say.

 

“I _know_ ,” the lady gushes. “I know you’re just excited about projects in general, but it’s different this time Ryouta. I think Tetsuya will be a really good mentor for you. I actually have to go now. I wish I could still talk but _unfortunately_ some asshole mixed the linen and silk dresses together which is _not_ good. Ugh, I have to go fix this. Bye-bye, talk to you later. _Beaucoup d'amour_.”

 

He hums in response and hits “End call.” Coffee in hand he flops down on a leather couch in his living room.

 

Golden eyes full of longing, full of dangerous excitement, he smiles to him. Most would have thought it was almost dark, the usual bright smile.

  
New opportunities came to him all the time. 


	2. Author's Note

I apologize for the wait in Chapter Two. Thank you so much for all of your supportive comments and bookmarks and kudos. It means the world to me. 

Chapter Two should be up sometime within the next week.


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